


Something Borrowed

by ThatWouldBee_Enough



Series: Kinktober 2020 [13]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Drunk Blow Jobs, Fake/Pretend Relationship, For the alcohol, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Pining, Public Blow Jobs, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:47:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27134095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatWouldBee_Enough/pseuds/ThatWouldBee_Enough
Summary: John asks Alex to go to his cousin’s wedding with him so that his relatives will stop asking when he’s going to get a girlfriend. With the alcohol flowing freely, his feelings come bubbling dangerously close to the surface.-------------------------Prompt 13- In public- lams
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens
Series: Kinktober 2020 [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947364
Comments: 25
Kudos: 47





	Something Borrowed

John isn’t sure if this is the best or worst idea he’s ever had. He’s sitting at table with a handful of his cousins and his sister– a sort of grown up kids table at a wedding with family large enough on both sides that the thought of planning the seating chart makes John’s head spin– with Alex to his left, dressed in a new tailored suit that John had bought him for the occasion, leaning casually up against him, one hand resting just above his knee, as he tells the rest of the table a made up story of how the two of them met. 

Well, made up isn’t exactly right. It _is_ actually the story of how they met. True right up until he mentions John asking him out on a date because _obviously_ he didn’t have the balls to do that, and that’s why Alex is here as a favor to him. Not _really_ his date. Just a friend who got dragged along to help keep his family at bay and cease the annoying, and frankly offensive, questions about when he’s finally going to get a girlfriend. 

And when Alex’s hand grazes his thigh he has to force himself to remember this isn’t real because– _honestly–_ wouldn’t it be so much better if it was?

For his part, Alex is playing the role perfectly. He hasn’t slipped up once and has been nothing but polite and charming even to John’s most annoying aunts and uncles who probe him with uncomfortable questions. And _god_ he really is charming. Even more so in that suit, and John is _so_ glad Alex agreed to let him pick it out and pay for it because the cut is perfect and the deep blue contrasts beautifully with his skin, and it’s the easiest thing in the world to pretend at a relationship with Alex when he looks so good. 

Alex turns wide, brown eyes on him now, and John is suddenly aware that the rest of the table is staring at him as well. Shit. Someone must have prompted him to speak. He smiles, gives a short, nervous laugh. “Sorry, I was spacing out. Did someone ask me something?” 

A hand comes up to his arm– Alex’s hand– and shoves playfully. When he laughs, it lights up his whole face, glowing under the warm string lighting draped all around the dining area. “The trip we went on for your birthday? Tell them about how gorgeous the mountains looked with all of the leaves changing colors.” Ah, right. One of several pre-rehearsed stories they had fabricated. John takes a sip of his wine to steady himself and launches into a tale about the cozy cabin in Vermont they had rented for a few days and going hiking and how Alex was too worn out once they got to the top of the mountain, so they took a break for a while and just stared at the trees and the clouds in the brisk autumn air before finally heading back down and getting cider donuts and coffee from a local farm stand. He goes on to tell the table how they went apple picking the next day, and John climbed up one of the trees to get a few perfect apples that others hadn’t been able to reach because Alex pointed them out and was disappointed that theirs weren’t as good. 

When he smiles down at Alex, still clinging to his arm, during a well timed point in the story, John notices the subtle pink glow in his cheeks and the way he’s a little more at ease than he had been earlier in the day, during the introductions, and then the ceremony. He had thrown down a few drinks during the cocktail hour, and now his wine glass is almost empty, so John isn’t entirely surprised. He wraps an arm around his shoulders, rubbing a hand gently over the sleeve of his suit jacket and holding Alex a little closer while he grins up at him, listening to him regale the others with their perfectly domestic story exactly as an adoring boyfriend would. 

When he gets to the end of the tale and one of his cousins picks up the thread of conversation to talk about _her_ latest trip to the carribean with her boyfriend, John drains the rest of his wine and flags down the next server he sees to refill it. His sister Martha, sitting on his other side, eyes him suspiciously. 

“Don’t get sloppy yet. We still have to sit through dinner. Toasts and first dances and speeches and all that bullshit.” 

He rolls his eyes and hears Alex laugh quietly on his other side, most likely genuine laughter this time at hearing his little sister reprimand him. 

“Not all of us just turned twenty one, Marty. I can handle a few glasses of wine.” 

  
  
  


By the time dessert has been cleared and the reception really kicks into full gear, the alcohol is buzzing pleasantly through John’s veins and _yes_ goddamn this is so much easier drunk. Especially when a slower, romantic song starts up and the singles clear off the dance floor to go get another drink from the bar, and Alex wraps skinny arms around his shoulders, his cheek resting against John’s as they sway, the music itself not lending much rhythm for anything besides subtle, small movements, but that’s fine because slow songs are really just an excuse to publicly hold someone else close to you, aren’t they?

He winds his arms a little tighter around Alex’s waist, breathing in the smell of his shampoo still clinging to silky strands of hair that brush against his neck as they dance. John knows that scent well. It’s the same shampoo he’s been using since they met in college, and it carries familiar, comfortable undertones with it that lulls him into a content ease as they dance. 

When the song fades out on its closing note, Alex pulls his face up from where he’s had it buried at John’s neck and blinks up at him, eyes glazed over just a bit now, and he stumbles as he takes a step back. It’s fine. Nearly everyone else is drunk too. Which is honestly how John prefers them. No one is asking annoying questions anymore, thank god. 

“Hey, I’m gonna go get another drink,” Alex tells him, his words starting to slur just a bit. “You want anything?”

John considers, then nods. He doesn’t want to lose the pleasant, no-fucks-to-give mood softening all of his rougher edges right now, and he knows the familiar anxiety that accompanies family gatherings will creep back in if he gets too sober. He starts to follow Alex off the dance floor towards the bar, but before they can get all the way there, he’s stopped by one of his aunts wanting to catch up because _it’s been ages_. He shoots Alex an apologetic look– though he feels more sorry for himself– and gives him his drink order so he can head off to the bar alone. He digs around in his wallet and passes over a few bills for the tip. Alex glances back over his shoulder as he goes and nearly knocks into someone from the bride’s family. John can’t help the smile that slips onto his face as he watches Alex go red in the face and apologize before making a beeline for the bar. His aunt pesters him with questions about work and his plans for the summer, and he’s trying so _hard_ to pay attention to the trail of conversation but it’s too difficult with the alcohol diverting his focus, and of course his thoughts eventually drift back to Alex. They always do. 

When he glances over at the bar– trying not to be too obvious in case his aunt is offended by the distraction, but she’s rattling on about his cousin who just got into some big name school apparently and hardly notices– he catches sight of Alex, leaning against the edge of the counter and chatting animatedly with one of the bridesmaids. She’s turned just enough to the side that he can see her face break out into a smile. 

_Goddammit._ The wave of jealousy crashes over him instantaneously, and John wishes _so badly_ that he had any real claim here, because the sight of Alex, so intimately close with someone else at this wedding, is tying his heart in complicated knots that tug so tight they burn. At the next lull in conversation, he excuses himself, and he can hear the blood rushing in his ears as he crosses the room to come up behind the two of them. He slips an arm casually around Alex’s waist and presses a kiss to his cheek, and he just barely catches the flash of annoyance in his eyes before his expression softens to something more like surprise. 

“Hey,” John says, sounding more calm than his thudding heart would suggest as he flashes a smile. “Sorry I got held up. Is that my drink?” He gestures to the full glass resting on the bar next to Alex. 

“Uh, yeah.” Alex looks over at him, then back at the girl. “John, this is Eliza, she’s a friend of the bride. Eliza, this is John.”

Eliza steps forward with enough elegant grace to suggest she is not quite as thoroughly drunk as either Alex or himself. “You’re one of the groom’s cousins, right?” 

“Yeah,” he says, not quite able to match her warm smile, but he gives his best approximation. “And Alex’s boyfriend.” 

John isn’t quite sure if he’s imagining the tense silence between the three of them or not, but he wraps his arm a little more possessively around Alex as he stares down this girl. After a moment, she glances down at her phone, swipes at some notification, then looks back up at the two of them. “Well, I have to go. Bridesmaid duties and all that.”

She gives a little apologetic grimace in Alex’s direction, and John’s not sure how much to read into it until Alex bites his lip and says, “I’ll see you later though, right?”

Eliza just smiles in response and slips back into the crowd, but the answer is clear on her face. 

“Jesus, Alex,” John hisses in a hushed whisper as soon as she’s gone. 

He furrows his brow and slips out of John’s hold, leaning back against the counter for balance. “What’s your problem?”

“You’re supposed to be here as my _date_ , Alex. You can’t go around flirting with every pretty bridesmaid you see.”

He means to invoke guilt, but Alex just grins shamelessly at his words. “She _is_ pretty, isn’t she?”

_“Alex.”_

“Yeah, yeah. Got it.” He lifts his own drink to his lips, taking another sip. “No need to get jealous, John. I’m all yours for the night.” 

The words ring hollow in his ears, both for the teasing air and for the fact that Alex said _for the night_ and not _forever_. 

“Give me that,” he says, instead of any of the thousands of confessions that bubble in his chest, motioning towards his drink still resting behind Alex on the bar. Alex passes it to him, their fingers brushing for just a moment, and even through the bitterness, John can still taste that moment of wonderful heat when they make fleeting contact. 

They’re both _thoroughly_ drunk a little while later. Ever since the incident with Eliza, John has been taking excessive advantage of the open bar, and Alex– well, Alex had never been one to know when to stop. After a couple more drinks, the awkwardness from Alex’s flirting fades away, and John relaxes back into the joyous mood of the night, letting Alex press up against him during the more upbeat songs, basically grinding into him, and _fuck_ the feeling of his warm body so close, that delicious friction even through layers of clothes, the pumping, thudding bass echoing the adrenaline pulsing through John’s blood, it’s all working him into a tightly wound mess. 

He needs to get Alex alone. 

The thought enters his mind in a flash, just like the flashing strobe lights from the DJ’s little table thing at the front of the dance floor, and he knows instantly that it’s the right decision. Alex is relaxed and loose and happy right now, smiling and laughing as they dance to music reminiscent of the songs that would play at the off campus clubs where they used to go during college to blow off steam. 

The moment just feels _right_. A small dose of nostalgia, and the adrenaline from drinking and dancing and slight physical exertion, and _of course_ it’s a wedding. And weddings are for love. Alex won’t be able to help but fall in love with him _here_. 

He grabs at his hips– Alex has his back to John’s front now, moving against him in time to some high energy song– and leans in closer, placing a kiss to the warm, enticingly soft skin of Alex’s neck. He waits to hear the responding, breathy exhale from his lips before asking, “Do you want to go somewhere more private?” 

It’s a risk, sure, but he’s the perfect amount of intoxicated to make the gamble, and he feels a rush of triumphant victory when Alex turns to lock eyes over his shoulder, gives John a playful smile, and nods. 

It’s a blur of bodies and lights and music as he grabs Alex’s hand and leads him away from the dance floor and out a door towards the back of the huge ballroom, and he can’t bring himself to care what his father or his siblings or anyone else might think because Alex is here with _him,_ ducking behind some tall bushes in the decorative garden on the sprawling grounds of the event space. They’re both breathless, drunkenly giggling with the adrenaline of escaping the crowd, and seeing Alex’s flushed face and bright eyes brings out enough boldness in John that he doesn’t feel any hesitation as he brings a hand up to his face and drags him in for a heated kiss. Alex startles for just a moment, but then he begins to respond, and _oh_ he responds beautifully. He breathes a hushed moan against John’s lips and parts his own, and then his tongue is in John’s mouth, eager and soft. John is drunk enough that he doesn’t mind how sloppy it is, because _obviously_ it’s just too hard to restrain themselves at this point. 

And when Alex presses forward against him, John can feel the hard nudge of his erection against his thigh, and _fuck_ – he’s dreamed about moments like this, but they were never as good as the real thing. “Alex,” he groans, just barely breaking away from the kiss so their lips are an inch or so apart, and he tries to keep his voice down but it probably comes out a little louder than he means it to. It doesn’t matter. Fuck, nothing matters but Alex, here, standing in front of him, clinging to him, _wanting_ him. He brings his hand down between their bodies and traces his fingers lightly up Alex’s thigh until he finds his cock, grabs him through the material of his pants and gives a firm, desperate stroke. He keeps his eyes on Alex’s face as he touches him, and he tries to memorize the way he bites down on his lip and his eyes roll back as he swallows down his sounds of pleasure. _God_ , he looks absolutely perfect, and John can’t hold back any longer. 

He drops to his knees, running both hands down the sides of Alex’s thighs, and finally glances up through his lashes as he brings his fingers to the button of Alex’s fly. 

“Fuck, John, I–” His words choke off into a quiet whimper as John drags the zipper down and lightly, reverently touches him over the soft fabric of his underwear. He traces the shape of him, wanting to explore and feel and take his time, even though he knows in the back of his mind they’re skirting danger here. There’s a very real chance of getting caught if anyone decides to walk through the gardens to get away from the noise and the energy of the party for a moment, but it just doesn’t feel important right now. Those consequences are lightyears away, improbable, impossible even, because why would the universe interrupt something so perfect?

Alex tips his hips forward into the touch, and John can’t tell if he’s even aware that he’s doing it. His eyes are shut tight now, his lips parted as he lets out little breathy noises. He nearly jumps when John trails fingers directly along the line of his shaft up to the tip. His head drops back a little, his eyes still closed, when he moans softly and sighs, “Please.”

John’s never denied Alex much, and he certainly doesn’t want to start now. He licks his lips in anticipation and tugs the elastic down just enough to free Alex’s cock, already hard and a bead of precome glistening at the tip. He leans forward, bracing himself against Alex’s thighs, and traces his tongue lightly around the head, drawing more delightfully worked up noises from above him. When he opens wider and takes the tip into his mouth, sliding a little lower and humming a pleased note against the weight of Alex on his tongue, he has the thought that this would be so much better if they were sober. Oh well. Next time. He takes Alex in farther, groaning when the length starts to reach towards the back of his throat. He wishes he could take him all the way down, really show him how good he can be at this, but his mind is still gripping at a sliver of practicality, and there’s no one way anyone nearby won’t notice the sounds of him gagging on Alex’s cock. 

He makes do with other tricks. Pulls off until he has just the head in his mouth and flicks his tongue along the underside, slides down again, then back up and repeats the motion. Feels his own face heat up at the desperate groan that escapes Alex’s lips. He slides down farther now and sucks in his cheeks, then brings one hand up to work at the part he can’t fit in his mouth, moving in imperfect, drunken rhythm as Alex starts to fall apart under the attention. His breathing starts coming in shallow pants as John speeds his pace, bobbing his head more quickly now, focusing on the suction and his tongue and honing in on the beautiful noises from above him. He can feel Alex trembling where his other hand is still pressed into his thigh, and _god_ it’s amazing knowing that _he’s_ the one having this effect on him. 

Alex’s hands have been still for so long that John isn’t expecting it when one of them comes to the back of his head. He pauses, more out of surprise than anything, and glances up at Alex, his cock still resting thick and hot on his tongue. But Alex pulls back now, looking impossibly unsure and John can’t fathom _why_ because can’t Alex tell that he’s been wanting this for so long now? That Alex’s hands on him are more than welcome, and that John will savor _any_ contact? 

“Sorry,” Alex says, his voice low and breathless and rough with tightly wound arousal. “I didn’t mean to– just caught up. In the moment.” 

As if John would care about that. Hell, he _wants_ Alex caught up in the moment. Wants him to give into the pure bliss of John’s mouth on him so that he realizes how _good_ they could be together. How good John could be _for_ him. And now Alex looks hesitant and worried and _no no no_ this isn’t good. He can’t give him the chance to second guess this. 

John pulls off, just barely so his lips are still brushing the tip, and pulls Alex’s hand back to rest firmly at the back of his head. Gives a smile that he hopes is both reassuring and sultry. “Alex, it’s fine. I don’t mind.”

The desperate exhale he breathes is enough confirmation that things are slipping back into safer territory, and he slides back onto Alex’s cock, still holding his hand to his head to make sure he won’t let go. When Alex’s fingers finally curl in, grasping at his hair and moving with him, John returns his hand to the base of his cock, stroking and licking and sucking in a broken staccato beat. He moans encouragingly when Alex’s hand grows more sure, guiding his movements, speeding him up. Fuck, it’s so good. John never wants that hand to let him go. 

Finally, with a well timed stroke of tongue and twist of his wrist, Alex holds John deep on his cock, pulsing and spilling across his tongue. It’s bitter and hot, and it’s hard to coordinate his movements enough to swallow, but because it’s _Alex_ he swears he’s never tasted anything sweeter. In a too quick flash, the moment is over. John doesn’t want it to end, so it’s Alex who pulls out of his mouth, slightly unsteady as he tucks himself away and does up his pants again. 

“Oh my god,” he gasps between panting breaths. “Fuck, John. That– uh, well thanks.” Alex looks down and gives him a nervous, but grateful and sated smile. 

John feels his chest loosen with relief. He did it. The first step is always the hardest, breaking through that initial awkwardness and just _doing_ it, and now that’s out of the way and they can figure everything else out. And as much as he can feel himself pressing uncomfortably against the front of his pants, Alex looks tired and a little unsteady on his feet, and he still looks a little nervous which is insane because why would he be nervous _now_? Now is the part where the nerves are finally over and everything is good. He grins up at him, wiping his face with the back of his hand to make sure it’s free of any spit or come.

When he rises to his feet, Alex is still giving him a look that– well– maybe it’s not nerves? It’s hard to decipher, and John gives up trying after a moment because the alcohol is still fogging his ability to reason through things. It’s easier to just give Alex a warm, glowing smile and trust that he’ll figure it out later. 

“Is my hair okay?” he asks. Because as much as he’s drunk and wants to spite his family a little bit, he’s not rude enough to walk back into the ballroom with sex hair. 

The expression on Alex’s face softens a little and he reaches over to run fingers through his curls near the back where he had been gripping just moments before, tugging out a tangle and then smoothing it back down. “There. That’s better.” 

“We should get back,” John says quietly. And they should, but at the same time he’s secretly hoping for Alex to grab his hand and stop him. Pull him into another kiss. Tell him he doesn’t want to go just yet. Wrap his own soft, perfect lips around John and repay the favor. 

But Alex doesn’t do any of that. Just nods silently and leads John back to the party. 

The rest of the night passes in a blur. Alex sticks close to him, and it’s _so easy_ to pretend this is real. Especially now. And– who knows– maybe it is. After tonight. After kissing and touching and the wonderful feeling of Alex spilling into his mouth. How could Alex not realize, after all of that, that no will ever love him quite as much as John does?

They don’t leave the reception until the DJ calls out that it’s the last dance and then asks them all to politely get the fuck out. They have a hotel room just a block over, and John wonders if maybe, earlier, Alex was just waiting until they got back to somewhere more private. He can picture it– Alex pressing him up against the door, tugging off the expensive suit and straddling him on one of the luxurious hotel beds. Sinking down on top of him, tight and warm and utterly breathtaking in the glow from the stars shining in through their window. 

It takes him a minute, as they enter the hotel lobby, to realize Alex is trying to speak to him. 

“Sorry, what was that?”

“I was saying that I– uh well– Eliza gave me her number. And she invited me back to her hotel room. I know things kind of got weird earlier, and if you wanted me to stay and talk about stuff, I can…”

John feels the facade splinter, and he’s sure his face goes pale at the words, but he does his best to hide it. “We both got pretty drunk,” he says, feigning as casual a tone as he can manage, laughing lightly for good measure. They’re _still_ drunk, though it helps that the bar closed down an hour before the reception officially ended. “It’s fine, Alex. Really.” _It’s not._ “Go have fun. After all, I dragged you all the way here to help me out. You might as well get something out of it.” Speaking the words out loud is like driving a dagger into his own beating heart, but they seem to relax the tension in Alex’s brow, so it’s worth it. 

“Okay.” He glances down at his phone screen, then back up. John wonders if he can see the heartbreak reflected in his eyes. “You sure we’re good?”

“Yeah.” He swallows around a lump in throat. “We’re good.” 

Alex gives him one last tight smile and shoves his phone in his pocket. Takes a step toward the elevator. John doesn’t follow. He’ll wait for the next one. He can’t stand to watch him get off on another floor, headed into the arms of someone else. Someone who isn’t him. “I’ll text you when I’m headed back, but don’t feel like you have to wait up. I’ll see you later, yeah?”

John bites his lip to stop a frown from forming and gives a little nod. “Yeah. See you later.”

And just like that, Alex is gone.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave some comments! 
> 
> We're working our way through tropes now apparently
> 
> I'm over on tumblr @ilovefoodandgirls


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